Playing doctor
by Bellamyblakes
Summary: His crimson stained hands held a vice like grip on her leg. The jagged flash exposed to the cool night air seemed to pale in colour with every passing second that ticked by. The moon provided an eerie light to the pairs situation, but it also provided them with enough light to try and save Clarke's leg. ( rated m for violence/ themes/ and a bit of something something )


**A/N: This is my first attempt at anything Bellark Related so yeah, don't completely tear me to shreds, not just yet.**

**Rated M for slight gore and language and mature themes.**

**This is set late season 1, before the grounder attack.  
>I don't mean to sound needy but srsly reviews are literally so important to me y'all, like you have no idea. <strong>

**I own nothing. unfortunately.**

**P.s. 90% of this was written in my notes on my phone and I've tried to edit it as much as I can so if there are mistakes I apologise due to lack of resources **

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><p>His crimson stained hands held a vice like grip on her leg. The jagged flash exposed to the cool night air seemed to pale in colour with every passing second that ticked by. The moon provided an eerie light to the pairs situation, but it also provided them with enough light to try and save Clarke's leg.<p>

The pair had decided to _try_ and investigate the deeper parts of the forest that had been untouched by their inquiries. But getting too caught up in the situation, the pair lost track of time before Clarke sliced her leg open on and old, rusted piece of shrapnel. It was cut down to the bone. But Clarke wouldn't **dare** show how much pain she was in. **Especially** in front of Bellamy Blake.

"Clarke. You are _not_ walking to the dropship." His voice was stern and unmoving, and the compression grip on her leg was not releasing either. The pair had stupidly gone without any medical supplies. Partially because they hadn't expected to venture more than 3 miles walk from camp, but time escaped them. And the two were actually becoming accustomed to each other's company. "It's the middle of the goddamned night, you'd catch a fever before we even got halfway." His breath disappeared in front of him in the ever dropping temperature of the night.

"I'm **_fine_**, Bellamy. Now let me walk." Her hand moved to his that were held over her wound. Attempting to pry them off of her, but Bellamy was reluctant to let go any time soon. "**Let go**."

"No."

"I swear to god I _will_ kill you."

"You wouldn't have the guts princess."

"Just- let me at least try. Ok?"

With a grunt Bellamy released the pressure of her wound and threw his bloodied hands in the air.

"Fine." His voice was blunt and angered all at once. But he could see the sudden contortion of her facial expression through the moonlight the moment he let go.

Quicker than a trap could envelope its prey, his hands were clamped on her wound. "No way princess. No way."

Clarke wouldn't dare speak, but he was right. She was in no way, shape or form fit enough to trek back to camp. Her facial expression softened as his hands pressured the cut again. "Sorry." She muttered. Her head falling back, the pain was beginning to worsen.

"...We need to cauterise it."

Her words were blunt, but they both knew it was the only option. Bellamy didn't have the equipment to stitch her up even if she talked him through it.

"But with what. I don't exactly see a fire around here. Unless your have fire starters in your pack. I sure as hell don't." Bellamy wouldn't admit it but he was feeling a twang of panic. What if the wound got infected and Clarke fell ill. The camp wouldn't follow him alone. There'd be a riot. He needed her to stay alive. Bellamy couldn't live without her.

"Of course I have fire starters in my pack, Jesus what type of person do you think I _am?_" Clarke's tone had a venomous underlay to it.

"Obviously one that _doesn't_ bring medical supplies." He shot it back right at her. Shutting her up as she pulled the pack over to her, Bellamy's grip never loosening. From the small radius she could reach she gathered a small handful of sticks and some dead leaves from under neath her. Every move she made was painful, her condition was worsening.

"You're knife." She demanded, but Bellamy looked at her stupidly.

"You're going to have to reach in my pants and get it or _this_ will bleed again." Gesturing to her leg wound.

"You **better** not enjoy this." She glowered as she searched his pants for the knife which was conveniently, for him, right above his crotch.

"Careful princess." He joked before his face fell, he knew this was something that was going to cause her a hell of a lot of pain. And he wasn't sure he was ready to see her like that.

Clarke could sense the sudden change in his face despite the lack of light provided by the moon and slowly building fire. "If you can't, I'll do it myself." Her words were gentle. A way her words had never been with him before. It took the both of them by surprise.

"No- I'll do it. Just, squeeze my hand."

Minutes passed before the knife was glowing red, lighting up there little huddle like a beacon. The temperature had dropped dramatically and they were both beginning to shiver. The wound had stopped its continuos blood flow so Bellamy gently removed his red stained hands from it, a small whimper escaping Clarke's mouth. With the gentlest touch, he ripped a larger hole around the wound, so the fabric wouldn't melt onto her perfect skin.

"Ready?" His voice was a **whisper** as he held the glowing knife in one hand, and Clarke's shaking hand in the other, his thumb drawing circles in a soothing motion. Clarke simply nodded her head and closed her eyes as Bellamy drew in a deep breath, the fiery red metal began to sizzle against her skin as she let out an ear piercing scream before silencing herself, her hand crushing bones in Bellamy's.

It was only seconds but it was the longest and painfullest seconds of her life. It was a pain she couldn't ever imagine again. It was like a fire ripped across her leg, barbecuing her flesh.

As soon as the wound was completely cauterised, Bellamy dropped the knife into a pile of dirt and carefully wrapped Clarke up next to him, her leg sizzling in the cold air as she was shaking in pain. A few streams of painful tears stroked lines along her face, but she refused to make noise. "It's okay, it's okay." Bellamy repeated as he gently stroked her dirty blonde hair until she stopped her shaking.

He hadn't even realised the angry pain inside of his hand until a solid half hour has passed of Clarke just curled in his arms. "You alright, Princess?" His voice was a gentle message as she finally opened her eyes.

She still couldn't speak, but just nodded, her light blue hues meeting his green pair but darting away to look at the red raw flesh on her leg.

"I'm... Fine." She said with a cracked voice a moment later. Bellamy's eyes followed hers to the still exposed blistering flesh. He released her from his arms and she proper herself against the rock she was originally against. Bellamy stood up and began removing his jacket, his hand burning in protest, and then his t-shirt to leave a black muscle singlet underneath, which was soon removed too, revealing his bare sculpted chest. Clarke couldn't help but find herself admiring his body in the dim, flickering light. She had no idea what he was doing but one thing she was sure of was that it was freezing. "You're going to freeze to death, put your clothes back on." She hissed at his stupidity. But it was reacted to by a gentle laugh.

"Just _shut up_ for a second."

His hands tore at his black singlet, ripping it into multiple strands before putting his t-shirt back on. Even though he would catch a fever, there was a part deep inside of Clarke that was begging for that shirt to remain off so his perfect body could grace her eyes for a few minutes longer. But with no avail, the thin black cloth was covering him again.

Clarke was taken slightly by surprise at how gentle he was being, he had begun to place some medicinal leaves from a nearby tree, which Clarke had briefed everyone on the moment the 100 landed, onto her wound, crushing them slightly to spread their antiseptic juices around her skin. It was actually a really nice feeling. He continued to lightly massage around the wound before ever so gently wrapped the makeshift singlet-bandage around her leg. Clarke couldn't help but let a wide smile greet her face. She had never seen him like this before, with such care and gentleness. It was like she was with a new person. And she _liked_ this person.

The night was biting at the exposed flesh of Bellamy's arm, but it was nothing compared to how he imagined Clarke to be feeling. She didn't exactly have a fur coat on, and she did just go through one of the most painful experiences a body could endure. The goosebumps were beginning to rise on her skin, and her teeth lightly chattered with her heavy breathing.

Bellamy took his seat next to Clarke after he had finished adjusting the bandage to be as comfortable as it could be for her.

"Here." His words were not a question but a command, her took off his jacket and slung it over her shoulders.

"No, you'll catch a fever."

"I **don't** care."

"You'll be sick for days Bell."

"Still, don't care Clarke." He hadn't noticed the shortening of his name at first, until he recognised the honest concern that was ridden throughout her words. "You need it more than me. And with your immune system fighting the infections from that wound, you need all the warmth you can get. Besides. I'll just sleep next to the fire."

"No, you won't."

"Then where will I sleep genius?"

Her teeth gritted at a sudden surge of pain radiating from her burn, they had been coming and going since it happened, but this one was far worse than the others, combined. It felt like it was happening all over again, like she could smell her flesh burning still, see the smoke from the blade again. Her breathing intensified into short sharp breaths. She was reliving it.

All Bellamy seemed to be able to do was look on in horror, his body frozen out of shock of the situation. The crushed knuckles from his hand beginning to swell and ache. His mind was ticking over a thousand thoughts per second. But his body wasn't acting upon any of these thoughts. It wasn't until Clarke's hand pounded against his broad chest, gathering a fistful of fabric, that he was brought back to this sick reality.

"_Bellamy_." Her voice was a groan as Bellamy quickly moved to position himself against her and the rock, careful not to move her leg too much. Gently, he scooped her up into his lap, and pressed her head to his chest, muscular arms encircling her, rubbing small patters on her back in an attempt of soothing. By now his hand was almost unable to move but he pushed past it. He **had** to.

"Hey hey, you're alright." His tone was soft and gentle and reminded her of how he spoke to Octavia when they were first reunited. It gave her a moment of ease before the pain struck again. "I've got you. I've got you." His voice was set to repeat as he continued to stroke her hair while the pain passed.

Wordless, she just clung onto the fabric of his shirt, her moistened eyes dampened the material as she held a death grip against him. He was her lifeline. Just holding her in his arms, like a small child. He had never seen her so _vulnerable_ and afraid. This was a different side to Clarke he had never expected to see. She was a peaceful being when she wasn't throwing accusations or profanities at him, and he had never truly had the time to appreciate her beauty, or her fragility when under pressure.

And she felt the same about him. Even though the pain had died down to a mellow throb, she refused to move from Bellamy's arms. The goosebumps on his skin intrigued her, her eyes following a trail of them on his tanned skin up to his muscular upper arms. The thin shirt left little to the imagination of what lies beneath. She still had the image of him topless burned into her mind, and a hungry monster deep inside begged to see it again.

But now was not the time nor place. Actually. It could never be the time or place, she had to have a clear mind. Fraternization had to be the very last thing she would allow herself to think about. And yet here she was fantasize about a half naked Bellamy. She internally scolded herself for even possessing such thoughts.

Bellamy felt her squirm a little under his hold, his hand not stopping from the steady rhythm he had on her hair. "How're you feeling now?"

She shifted from his grasp to reposition herself so she could see a clear view of his face. His angular jaw and cheek bones penetrating her self control. "I've felt better, that's all I can say." A small chuckle left Bellamy's lips before he gave a small shiver. "You're freezin-"

"I'm fine."

"_Bellamy_."

"Clarke."

"Put your coat back on."

"No. Princess, you need it more then

"Bell, take the **fucking** jacket!"

"No."

He could tell that this would go on into the break of dawn, and by then the two would already be halfway back to camp.

"Jesus Christ Bellamy can you just think about what you're doing right now!" Clarke carried on about how he needed to put himself first in situations like this for the greater good of himself but he could care less. He could see the paling of her skin from the blood loss, and the dark circles that entrapped her eyes. It made him physically ill to see someone who is usually so strong look so fragile. "You're not even listening. You know what, just let me sleep."

And with that she half rolled off of him, but no so much that she still had contact with him. In fact all she really did was turn her head from his.

"At least you'll be warm." He mused quietly before resting his head against the rock. His lips and nose were tingling from the cold air biting at them. If he could see himself he would be able to see that Clarke wasn't being a psycho, his lips had turned a pale blue, and his nose was a bright red.

Clarke whipped her head quickly around to him before wincing at the head pain due to her blood loss. "You're going to die out here. And I can't have you dying on me, goddamnit." Her voice broke on the last note. It suddenly hit here that she needed him a hell of a lot more than she thought. Tears even threatened to cascaded down her almost white face. "I **_need_** you Bellamy."

His heart **ached**, but he couldn't form words to reply. So for once he acted upon his inner thoughts. Rough calloused hands placed on the sides of her pale face, slowly, he pressed his cold, chapped lips against hers. It was wrong, it was terribly wrong. He couldn't allow himself to feel these emotions toward his fellow leader. But something inside of him was roaring to be fed and let free. And Bellamy was giving it the fuel that it needed.

Clarke was taken by surprise at the very least. But her actions spoke louder than what her words would. Her hands gripped his shirt, pulling her closer to him, embracing the small kiss.

But neither of them **dared** deepen it.

Breaking apart, their foreheads rested together, Clarke spoke first. "We can't do this Bel-"

"I know." His words were fast and truthful. "I know."

The pair of them had both forgotten about the burning injuries when their lips met. Bellamy's hand stroked her face, his knuckles red and swollen.

Even though they knew they shouldn't be doing it, _neither_ of them had intentions on moving from this position. They were tantalising close together, the warmth radiating off of her seemed to make Bellamy forget about the freezing air.

But it wasn't a moment longer before their lips had collided again, but this time it was far from soft and gentle. It was hungry, it was angry and it was full of passion. It was everything the two had gone through the past months. Their hate for each other, then sudden respect and now _this? _The both of them knew well that this couldn't be repeated. For the sake of the camp. For their people.

But there people weren't there. It was just the two of them.

Their tongues danced as hands explored. But both of their touches were gentle, like afraid of damaging one other. Especially Clarke's leg. Bellamy could care less about his hand. She was his _first_ priority, he would get it bandaged once they got back to camp.

**_Camp_**.

His hands moved to rest on her sides, their kiss deteriorating. The pair breathing heavily to regain the breath they had lost from the fiery kiss.

"You're right." She breathed, "This was idiotic." But yet she craved for another taste of his cold lips, for another chance to numb the pain and fuel the hungry desire deep within her bones.

"Completely." Bellamy agreed, but he too felt the urge to melt into her once more. He craved her, and after the events of their night, he wasn't letting her go.

His injured hand remained on her waist as his healthy hand snaked its way to her face, skin warm under his touch. And the two leaders inched closer and closer together until their was no less than a few centimetres between their lips.

"We can't." She breathed out so low it was barely audible.

"I know." Bellamy's voice almost a growl. But he smashed his lips onto hers once more, and he promised himself for the last time. Clarke held no protest as a small groan passed from her mouth into his.

His teeth nipped at her bottom lip before he trailed kisses to just below her earlobe, his good hand guiding her head to allow him more space to explore. More sounds of pleasure escaped from Clarke and he lightly bit and sucked her supple flesh. "You're going to leave a mark." She managed to get out in between breaths.

"Good." He whispered into her ear before returning his lips to hers, their inferno like intensity growing and growing. If it wasn't for the below freezing weather and lack of healthy bodies, the pair both had visions of bare flesh on bare flesh. And it was driving them insane.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the pair broke free with panting breaths. "This stays here." She demanded, and Bellamy obliged. But instead of moving off of him like he thought, she curled into his chest, her wounded leg outstretched onto his own legs. He couldn't help but allow a small smile. But she quickly stirred and ripped his jack off of her before they could argue again.

"If you say anything I'll break your other hand." And she threw it lightly at his head, and with a roll of his eyes he quickly plopped the jack on, and Clarke was already curled against him. Bellamy repositioned himself slight to a more comfortable lying position, the princess still right in front of him.

"We need to promise that _this_ **can't **happen at camp." His voice was stern but gentle.

"Promise. And Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm fixing that hand when we get home. You can't hide it forever. Idiot." And with that she gently took his swollen hand in hers, feeling out the damage. "This will be fun."

"No playing doctor until your legs healed and you're **100%**."

"Whatever."

As bad as it may seem, he didn't want to have to trek back to the camp at the first sunlight, truthfully, he wanted to stay like this for a while longer.

And that's where they fell asleep. Just in one others arms as they both recovered from injury. And at first light tomorrow all this would have to be forgotten. But they were going to discover that suppressing their inner monsters desire for one other would be harder than it seemed.

You don't just _forget_ about **love**.

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><p><strong>AN: so that turned out to be a lot longer than I expect it to be. Oh well. Yolo **

**so should this stay a one shot or should I extend it into the day or so after? Y'all decide! Please review it would mean the world! **


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